Sealing the Deal
by secretmonkey
Summary: Amy goes to the club to surprise Reagan. But when an older brunette seems to be moving in on her territory, Jealous Amy comes out. Silly Reamy fluff.


The only things Amy could smell were sweat, cheap beer, and low-rent vodka.

And fuck all if all that didn't make her heart beat a little faster and her palms a little sweaty.

Weird, right?

Well, that's love.

For years, the smell of any one of those things reminded Amy of her father, and that made her heart beat faster for an entirely different reason. But that was then.

Before Reagan.

And Amy smiled to herself, oddly happy that her life, which had once been divided up into before and after her father bailed (and then, for a while, into before and after loving Karma) was now totally and irrevocably split into before and after Reagan.

And she was truly enjoying the _after_.

Now, the scent of sweat and beer and vodka only made Amy think of her girlfriend. Of the way she smelled as she slipped through Amy's bedroom window after another DJ gig at another underground rave. Of the way the air changed as she moved into the room, the way the smell of the beer would fade as Reagan shrugged off her leather jacket. The way the smell of the vodka drifted away as she slipped off her pants and tossed her shirt onto Amy's mannequin.

The way that then, _she_ became the only thing Amy could smell as _she_ slid into bed behind her, one arm snaking around Amy's waist. Sometimes, Reagan simply leaned her head against Amy's, laced their fingers together, and played big spoon until, sometime during the night, Amy rolled over and they spent the rest of the night face-to-face, with their noses just barely touching.

Amy loved those times.

She would never admit it, but it had gotten to the point where she almost couldn't sleep if Reagan wasn't wrapped around her.

Other nights, as that smell of the booze faded, as Reagan's arm slid around her, and Amy breathed _her _in, that was only the beginning. Sometimes, it was the smell that woke her. Sometimes it was the feel of Reagan's lips on the back of her neck, or her tongue flicking against that spot right behind her ear, or her hands sliding down Amy's legs, then back up, fingers dancing lightly across the insides of Amy's thighs, coming closer, closer, so _fucking_ close…

But never quite getting there. And Amy would groan in frustration but that would soon turn into a moan as Reagan went to work, teasing her mercilessly.

And Amy was convinced a little bit more every time, that if Reagan didn't stop with the teasing and get with the _fucking_ soon, she might explode.

Then again, if Reagan did get with the fucking, Amy knew she would probably explode then too.

More than once, most likely.

As she stepped into the club, Amy swore to herself, that tonight was going to be _the _night. Reagan had held off long enough. Two fucking _months_. If Amy had to hear one more speech about taking it slow and wanting to make sure she was ready and making it special, she was going to tie the older girl down and just take care of it herself.

She paused in the entryway of the club. _That _was a new mental image. And a not unappealing one at that.

And Amy let herself wonder, just for a moment, if Reagan had a silk scarf or two hidden away somewhere in her tiny apartment.

If not, Amy was sure she could always borrow one or two from Lauren.

She shook her head and silently cursed Reagan for giving her all these thoughts because, as much as she enjoyed them, all they were doing was making her more frustrated.

Amy thought she had known frustration from dealing with Karma for ten-plus years.

Two months with Reagan had already eclipsed that. And tonight, she was determined, would end that.

Amy leaned against a nearby wall and breathed, collecting herself. _This_ was new to her. Hell, all of this was new to her, but _this_ - this wanting, this needing, this _desire_ - this was something she'd never even _thought _about feeling before.

It hadn't been this way with Karma. That was all about the fairy tale. They were going to be together forever, grow old together, they were soul mates. And sure, once she'd realized her feelings, Amy had thought about doing _things_ with Karma.

But it was all a dream.

Reagan was reality. And it hadn't taken Amy long to realize that reality beat the dream any day.

Especially when reality kissed like Reagan. Felt like Reagan. Pinned her down to the bed and ran her tongue over _almost_ every inch of her like Reagan.

Wasn't she supposed to be putting those thoughts away? Wasn't that the plan?

Like she would, even if she could.

The feelings were all new and Amy was reveling in them. She loved the tension, the electricity, the craving that sometimes walked right up to the border of pain, but in oh, such a _good_ way. Before Reagan, Amy had never understood the phrase 'hurts so good'.

She got it now.

She got it every time she saw Reagan. She got it in the way she couldn't catch her breath when their hands touched, in the way even the simplest, most chaste of kisses made her heart feel like it was going to break its way out of her chest just to be closer to the other girl.

It was all new. It was all different.

And, Amy thought, it was all pretty fucking _awesome_.

Once she had collected herself, Amy stepped down onto the dance floor and scanned the crowd. Reagan wasn't due to go on for another half an hour, so Amy figured she was probably somewhere on the floor, pushing her little cart with all her gear.

Amy loved that cart. She'd loved it from the moment Reagan almost ran her over with it.

And she'd come to love it even more the other night, when she'd come to meet Reagan after a show. She'd helped her roll the cart to the small storage space where she left it. And, before Amy had a chance to turn around, Reagan had her pinned against the cart, sliding up behind her, hips grinding against Amy's. She'd tugged Amy's shirt loose from her jeans, sliding her hands and then her lips beneath it, peppering soft kisses against the bare skin of the blonde's back as her hands roamed freely, and Amy was _so _glad she'd skipped the bra…

Amy took another deep breath and hoped the flush of her cheeks wasn't too noticeable.

Her eyes searched the floor for Reagan, even as her mind wondered if there was a dark corner they could disappear into for the next - she glanced at her watch - twenty-six minutes.

And then Amy spotted her. And her heartbeat picked up just a bit more.

For some reason, Reagan was already up at her deck. Amy had to look up at her, and she had to admit, it was a hell of a view.

Reagan's hair was down and loose, the freshly re-dyed purple tips framing her face. The leather jacket was there, it _always _was, but underneath… oh… _fuck_…

Reagan had foregone her usual all black for gigs, because the white crop top she was rocking was anything but black, and Amy wasn't even sure it qualified as a top, it was so short. It stopped just below Reagan's breasts, and Amy was pretty sure she could see just a hint of Leopard print bra poking out from beneath the white fabric.

Amy let her eyes roam - and feeling free to do that without guilt was just another bit of awesome - and she traced her way down the length of the top - it didn't take long - and then soaked in the view of her girlfriend's flat stomach, the way her abs flexed and stretched as Reagan moved at the deck.

It was hot in the club. And Amy could already make out a thin layer of sweat on Reagan's skin, under the hot lights. And she remembered the other night, when she'd turned the tables on her hot DJ and pinned _her_ against the cart, running her tongue slowly across those abs, dipping lightly into her nav -

Amy shook her head - _again_ - and cursed the club full of people. She wanted Reagan. Alone. Now.

But then, the sight of the brunette in the way too short skirt, way too tight top, and way too fuck me heels drifting into view next to Reagan reminded Amy - _quickly_ - that they weren't alone.

And made her wonder who this bitch - and yes, she was sure that Miss Standing _Waytoofuckingclose_ was a total bitch, even without meeting her - was, exactly?

And why was she all up on Reagan while she spun? And why was smiling at her and laughing and laughing some more?

Amy knew Reagan was funny, but come the _fuck_ on.

She resisted, barely, the urge to run across the dance floor, haul herself up the ladder, and toss the brunette over the railing.

She resisted, but she reserved the right to change her mind.

Amy watched as Reagan turned, briefly, and slipped out of the jacket. And the sight of her bare lower back, the dimples right above the waistline of her… Oh, God… _leather pants_… drove Amy nuts. It was her favorite spot - of the ones she'd been able to explore so far - and she loved the way it felt beneath her hands when Reagan was laying on top of her, the way the skin yielded under her fingers as she flexed them open and shut in time with her own - and Reagan's - moans.

But then _Bitch_ stepped even closer - and was that even possible? - and placed one hand on the small of Reagan's back. Her _bare_ fucking back. And Amy took a step toward them, nearly running into some high as a kite douche with a glow stick in each hand.

Amy watched as the brunette's other hand moved from her side toward the rows of dials and knobs in front of Reagan and then - no _fucking _way - Reagan's hand was covering hers and she was guiding her, helping her - fucking _teaching _her - how to turn it just right, how to move it, how to steer it through the motions to get just the right response.

And Amy knew she had to stop thinking in metaphors.

And she _really _ had to stop reading all that lesbian erotica Shane kept emailing her.

The song blaring through the sound system changed slightly, the beat picking up just a bit, and the brunette smiled, so _fucking_ pleased with herself and then Reagan was touching _her_ again, a hand on the shoulder, and Amy could swear she felt her own skin burn in just that spot.

Amy finally managed to get her feet and her brain back on the same page and she crossed the dance floor quickly, making a beeline for the ladder. She hesitated at the bottom, just for a moment.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She'd told Reagan that she'd meet her at the apartment after the gig. She was supposed to be having a movie night with Karma.

And for just a moment, the smell of cheap beer and crappy vodka made her think of her father again.

She grabbed onto the ladder and pulled herself up, rung by rung. When her head poked out over the top of the ladder, Reagan spotted her immediately.

"Amy!"

Amy. Not Shrimp Girl. Not Shrimps.

Formality had never hurt quite so much.

Amy ignored the growing pit in her stomach as she finished pulling herself up onto the deck, but the second her feet hit the top, she was caught up in Reagan's arms and, as usual, her brain hiccuped for just a moment.

Amy wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and felt Reagan shudder, just a little, at the feel of skin on skin. The younger girl smirked, a little of that self-satisfaction she'd seen on the brunette's face crossing her own.

Let's see you do _that_ to her, Amy thought, staring icy green daggers at the _bitch_.

.

"I thought we were meeting after," Reagan said. Her smile quickly faded and she took a step back, pulling Amy's hands up and entwining their fingers. "Did something happen with Karma?"

Amy 's heart fluttered at the worry in Reagan's voice and she shook her head. "No," she said. "I just missed you."

Reagan grinned and slipped her arms around the blonde again. . "I missed you too," she said, her words hot against Amy's skin. "_So much," _she whispered.

The brunette cleared her throat and Reagan pulled back as if Farrah had just walked in on them. _Again_. She glanced back at the _bitch _once, then turned back to Amy.

"I'm on in like five minutes," she said. "And I kind of need to have a good show tonight, so…"

Amy pulled her eyes from the brunette and saw Reagan's gaze flicking back and forth between her and the ladder.

"You want me to go?"

Reagan wrapped one arm around Amy's waist, pulling her closer. "I _never _want you to go, Shrimps," she said, totally missing the way the sound of her nickname made Amy's heart skip a beat. "But if you're up here, I'm going to be… distracted. And, like I said, I need to have a good show - "

"I get it," Amy said. Truthfully, she did. But getting it and liking it, were two different things. Amy tipped her head in the direction of the older woman. "But won't _she_ be a distraction, too?"

"I certainly will," the other woman said, "and that's why I'm heading down too. Maybe we could watch the show together?". She extended a hand to Amy. "I'm Lila," she said.

Amy took the hand, the one that Reagan had been holding just a few minutes before. "Amy," she said. She turned back to Reagan, eyes full of questions, but her girlfriend had already turned her attention back to _Lila._

Amy still thought _bitch_ was better.

"Thanks, Lila," Reagan said. "I'll talk to you after the show?"

Lila nodded, then slipped past the girls to the ladder. Amy suppressed the urge to shove her down or stomp on her hands.

"Rea, who was - " Amy's question was cut off by Reagan's lips pressing a quick, chaste kiss against hers.

"Sorry, Shrimps. Gotta go." She gave Amy one more quick peck. "We still on for after?"

Amy nodded. And wondered if Lila was coming along for the ride.

She climbed back down the ladder to find Lila waiting for her. Now that she could see her up close, Amy realized that she was a _woman_ - older than either her or Reagan. And though her clothes helped her to blend in, she didn't _seem_ like the type to frequent underground raves picking up young lesbian DJs.

Though, to be fair, Amy didn't look much like that type either. And look at her now.

"So…" Amy said. She sucked at small talk to begin with. Small talk with the hussy that was trying to move in on her girl?

Fuck. Apparently _that_ turned her into a reject from some bad after-school special. Hussy? Seriously?

"So," Lila replied. She smiled at the younger girl and Amy felt both mocked and… nope… just mocked. "Have you and Reagan been… friends… long?"

Not for the first time, Amy wished she could arch an eyebrow like her girlfriend. "A few months," she said. "But we're _very_ close."

Fuck me. I'm Karma from Communal, Amy thought. I may as well climb back up there and pee on Reagan.

"Really?" Lila didn't seem as surprised as the question might have suggested. "I haven't seen you at many of her shows," she said. "And I've been to almost every one the last couple of months."

Oh. No. She. Didn't.

"That's funny," Amy said. "_I_ didn't see _you _last Thursday." You know, the night _my_ girlfriend and I practically _fucked_ in the storage room?

"That's right," Lila said. She was staring up at Reagan, fingers tapping on her skirt in time with the beat. "I had to miss that one. But I texted Reagan before the show to let her know." The older woman turned and looked right at Amy. "I didn't want her to think I'd stood her up."

If Amy had been carrying an Epi-pen with her, she might really have gone all Karma-Communal on Lila right then.

"I'm just glad I was able to get out of work early tonight," Lila said, turning her attention back to Reagan. "This is a big night for Reagan. And for me." She leaned a little closer to Amy and whispered to her. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Does it involve where I can bury your body and no one will ever find it? "Sure," Amy croaked out.

Lila smiled again. "Tonight is the night Reagan and I _seal the deal_." Her fingers danced air quotes around the words. "This night is going to change her life."

Amy glanced up at her girlfriend. Reagan smiled down at her, put an extra little shake in her dance moves.

And Amy felt like she couldn't breathe. And her heart might rip right out of her chest.

Just not in the _good _way,.

Lila put a hand on her shoulder and Amy flinched, but the brunette seemed not to to notice. "I'm going to step out for some air," Lila said. "If Reagan comes down for her break, could you be a dear and ask her to meet me outside?"

Amy nodded, but the movement was all autopilot. Lila strolled off, and Amy watched her go.

And she couldn't help but feel like Reagan was headed out with her.

And _fuck that_. Lila might be older and more experienced and yeah, she was hot, but Amy knew - or at least Reagan told her all the time - that she was pretty damn hot too. And there was no way Amy had gone through everything she'd gone through in the last year to let another hottie douche-face take what _she_ wanted.

Lila was not going to be Liam. Not this time. Not tonight.

Without so much as a second glance at Reagan, Amy headed out the same way she'd seen Lila go. She had no idea what she was going to say or do - maybe she should've listened to Shane when he'd tried to give her 'territorial lesbian' tips - but she was sure she wasn't giving in without a fight.

Though she hoped it wouldn't come to an actual fight. Lila had a set of guns on her.

Amy left the club and found Lila leaning against a car just a few feet outside the door.

"Amy?" Lila glanced behind the younger girl. "Where's Reagan?"

"She's still inside," Amy said. She felt her hands ball into fists at her side. "And that's where she's staying."

Amy swore she saw a smirk flit across Lila's face. "_Really_?"

Amy nodded. "Look, _Lila_," she said. "I don't know who you are or what makes you think you can come in here and snake Reagan out from under me with your touching and your… touching… and your…

"Touching?" Lila asked, trying to be helpful.

"Yeah," Amy said. And shit, this had all sounded so much cooler in her head. "But if you think I'm just going to sit by and let some milf-y tramp steal my _girlfriend… " _Amy trailed off as she saw Lila struggling to hold in a laugh. "What's so _fucking_ funny?"

"You think I'm a milf?"

Amy growled. Yup, she fucking _growled_. This bitch was trying to Liam Booker her all over again and now she was making fun of her?

Oh. Hell. No.

"Amy, relax," Lila said. She could clearly see that Amy was one step away from snapping and, as funny as that might have been to watch, it _so _ wasn't what she was there for. "I'm not trying to steal your girl."

"You're not?"

Lila shook her head. "I think _he_ might object," she said, tipping her head forward and slightly to Amy's left. The younger girl spotted a man standing there, leaning up against the outer wall of the club. "Rick, meet Amy. Amy, meet Rick. My _husband_."

Amy glanced at the man, but her brain was fuzzing out and she couldn't pay him much attention. "Husband?"

Lila nodded and smiled at the young blonde. "Fourteen years this December," she said, "You might have actually heard of him. His full name's Rick Colt."

Amy's brow furrowed. Rick. Colt. She'd heard the name, but where….

"Colt," she said. And then the light bulb moment. "Shit," she said. "Colt _Records_." Lila nodded again and there was a twinkle in her eyes. "Shit," Amy said again. "When you said 'seal the deal', you meant… literally."

"Yes, I did," Lila said.

And in that moment, Amy wanted nothing more than to have really spent the evening with Karma. Because even listening to hour upon hour of Liam-this, Liam-that would have been less painful - and _so_ much less embarrassing - than this.

"You're giving Reagan a record deal," Amy said softly. "You _were _going to give her a deal. And then I came out here acting all jealous and shit, and oh my God, I am sooooo sorry, please you have to believe that -"

"Amy, calm down," Lila said. She stepped over to the younger girl and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm still giving Reagan the deal."

A weight Amy hadn't even known was there lifted off her chest. "You are?"

Lila nodded again. "And I have to say, I owe you an apology." She smiled at Amy. "I was deliberately being a bit of a… what did you call me?... a hussy, in there. I knew you were thinking the worst and I let you."

Amy felt a sudden flash of her anger returning. "Why would you do that?"

Lila chuckled. "You can blame Reagan for that," she said. "We've been trying to sign her for most of the last two months. The girl has serious skills. But she kept refusing."

Refusing? That didn't make any sense. Why would Reagan have refused a record deal even once, much less repeatedly over the last two months?

Two months…

And it was all suddenly so clear.

Lila saw the realization on Amy's face. "There's a clause in our contracts," she said. "Every one of our artists has to go on a six to eight month promotional tour, hitting all the best clubs across the country." She smiled at Amy again. "Reagan wouldn't do it. She said she wouldn't sign unless she didn't have to go on the tour."

Oh. Shit.

Amy had never felt so good and so bad at the same time.

"Reagan said she had something more important than a record deal here," Lila said. "And, being the smart woman that I am, I figured out that some_thing_ was really some_one_. So, when I saw you two tonight - and saw the way she looked at you - I put two and two together."

Amy smiled and used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that had started to flood her eyes.

"I messed with you tonight," Lila said, "And I'm sorry for that. I guess I just wanted to make sure Reagan mattered as much to you as you do to her." She reached into her purse and offered Amy a tissue. "If I'm letting her out of the tour, I wanted to make sure it was for a good reason."

"Not good. The _best_."

Amy spun around at the sound, and saw Reagan standing behind her. She was clutching some official looking papers in her hand.

"Here you go, Lila," Reagan said as she stepped around Amy and handed the papers to the brunette. "All signed, sealed, and delivered. I guess I'm officially a 'Colt' now."

Lila grinned and stuffed the papers in her purse. "Yes, you are," she said. She held her arms out and Reagan stepped into the hug. "Welcome to the family," Lila said. She turned to Amy and opened her arms again. "Welcome to both of you."

A few minutes, some more tears, and some discussion of recording logistics later, Lila and Rick drove off and Reagan and Amy stood outside the club in the most awkward silence their relationship had ever endured.

Amy was the one who finally broke it. "Why?" she asked. "Why would you say 'no'? That's your dream."

"That was my dream BS," Reagan said.

"Bullshit?" Amy was confused again. This night was enough to make her seriously need a drink.

Reagan stepped closer and took Amy's hand in hers. "Before Shrimps," she said. "That was my dream before I met you." She blushed - and that was the first time Amy could ever remember seeing _that_ - and smiled shyly at her. "It's like my whole life's been divided," she said. "Before you. After you."

"I know the feeling," Amy said. "But I can't let you give up your dream-"

"That _was_ my dream," Reagan said, as she pulled Amy to her, wrapping her arms tightly around the blonde and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "But now…"

"Now, what?" Amy asked, her breath hitching slightly as her hands roamed over Reagan's nearly bare back.

"Now," Reagan said, the fire behind her eyes telling Amy that yes, tonight _was_ going to be the night, "Now, I have a new dream."


End file.
